May 1

Correction: Dame P.D. James is 89.

I woke stiff and sore. Maybe part of that is the weather. My jaw does not hurt but it doesn't yet feel normal. Stop at the Food Bank. Off to the park.

Somebody searched my car last night I discovered. When I looked at what they found I burst out laughing. They found pooper scooper sacks, the stone I am saving which crashed thru my window, raggedy old dirty towels lining the back seat, the dog carrier, obsolete paperbacks. The lever which opens my trunk does not work. They would have found dog food and my winter coat, as well as potting soil.

We picked up Food Pantry groceries. Off to dog park but too late to catch Judy. I took Lady Chica thru the agility course off leash by tempting her with a treat (surreptitiously bc it is against the rules). She knows exactly what to do. She balked at jumping the fence and ran off to do the next trial, a slant board up and down.

Library run. New books by Johnathon Keller, Marcia Muller and somebody else. Yeah.

On an NPR show, an ex-pat in Mexico called in to remind us that in Mexico people are poor and only turn up in a hospital when they are very, very sick. Like the thirties, hospitals were where people went to die.

Lady Chica's Tale
We had a lot of running today. I came home, ate lunch and flopped over to take my nap. (I take my meals in my den.)

Blitzen's Tale
I have been restless today, playing with Mom. Running, running, running.

Reading Johnathan Kellerman's latest, *True Detectives*.


Hugs, Dr. Liz